


The seven times Felicity wore leather

by Sgladiate



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 11:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1686539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sgladiate/pseuds/Sgladiate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she wore a leather jacket, she cried, and couldn't bear to look at it since.<br/>Can her aversion to leather melt away with the time she spends with the Arrow team, especially when Oliver Queen is involved?</p><p>Several fluffy scenarios, Olicity heavy.</p><p>“Okay mister, I need to get those clothes off you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The seven times Felicity wore leather

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Felicity lives in an apartment. The shots are spread across a wide time lapse, starting with before the trio met, then when Moira was still alive to sometime after Slade was put away. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

The first time she wore a leather jacket, she cried.

It was on a sale, the black completely different to her normal choice of colour. She favoured bright, vibrant hues but this screamed change and change could sometimes be good. With some persuasion from her friend, she returned home from their shopping spree with the jacket buried in one the many bags.

It was just what she needed for the ghastly autumn weather.

She threw off her heels and reached out for the new buy to try it one more time in front of the mirror. Just to double check it suited her and that she shouldn’t run back to the store with a sheepish expression, asking to return it.

As she pulled up the silver zip, the phone rang.

She scurried towards it, picking up the headset and almost ending the call before she could even mutter a ‘hello’, when her thumb nearly hit the disconnect button.

She almost wished it had.

It was a stern sounding voice that she recognised as one of the nurses working at ‘Climbing Rose’, a care home with residents chained to memory eating ‘Mr Alzheimer’s’ as she came to call it as a child. First her mother became not as quick with her words’ one time forgetting the ‘word’ for watch and eventually coming up with ‘hand-clock’ as replacement. Then she started losing track of time and then there was the period when she became paranoia ridden and suspicious. Eventually, the knowledge she had a daughter was gnawed away too.

That’s when her mother ‘died’ the first time.

When the voice at the other end of the receiver began to offer her platitudes, her began to shake.

When it told her that her mother had passed away, died a _‘second death’_ , she stifled a scream.

She wasn’t there holding her mother’s hand when she puffed out her last breath. Instead she was laughing at her friend’s anything but subtle attempts of picking up a date.

A tear trickled down her cheek as she managed to discuss the upcoming arrangements.

When the nurse ended the call, the tears transformed to heart wrenching sobs, the handset still inside her white knuckled grasp and the leather jacket on her heaving body, it’s uncut price tags dangling with each expelled breath.

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She didn’t wear it again for another two years. Somehow every time she’d look at the jacket, she’d be transformed back into that moment. When she grieved, she did so by stirring her thoughts away from the subject, a giant ball of unresolved, raw emotions that she rather not touch. Yet, she couldn’t make herself throw it away.

The leather hanged unused on her hanger, eventually becoming half shielded by the patterned cardigan she once wore in the confinement of her IT department but which was no longer appropriate with her new ‘rise’ in positions. It probably would have stayed there untouched by daylight for much longer but that Wednesday, she decided to go behind the Arrow’s back. She tracked down the man behind a ring of kidnappings, but needed some evidence. Sara was away, and her friends aka the city’s overgrown guardian angels would have stuck out like sore thumbs. Subtlety was the key hence why she planned on going solo.

The plan was without faults and she decided to wear leather. Not to look tough but because it made her feel... _strong_. With it on she found out the unimaginable and survived.  The black made her feel she could do anything, including breaking into a safe house full of evidence with the potential to be life-sentence gifting to those who it linked to.

_

“Yes, a blond in leather.” A man heaved into a walkie talkie, red-blotches occupying his face, having run for a good distance trying to catch up with her.

Now it was her turn to call in for back up.

“Oliver? Hey, yes, fine. Erm, would have a spare moment? I think I may need a hand”

_

She threw a kick into his shins, and the guard fell to ground shouting profanities.

“I guess you didn’t actually need me here, did you? You seem to be doing just fine.”

Oliver didn’t know whether to be proud at how the girl just sent a man twice her size crumbling to the ground or angry that she was even here, in the first place, alone, where anything could have happened.

She gave him a half smile. “Sorry, I was worried there’ll be more.”

 

҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂

 

When she was coerced into a bar by her friends, she recalled thinking it would be a good idea to leave at a half decent hour.

Half past two in the morning was decent. She could still catch some sleep and be a badass Smoke not plagued by a mile long eye-bags.

She was going to be going out in the field later for what reason she couldn’t exactly remember but she was excited nevertheless.

As much as she’d want to she couldn’t tell that to her three friends.

She missed being completely honest with them.

Instead she blurted out some nonsensical excuse that if not for the alcohol, they would never have bought and in a drunken haze walked through the bar’s main doors.

She located her phone to call for a cab, when her thoughts returned back to Oliver.

Since she met him, the number of lies that came rolling out of her mouth decidedly grew. And she never _liked_ lying.

In fact, she reasoned that this somehow made him morally obliged to be nice to her, nice enough to pick her up in the middle of the night. Deciding that it was a certainly a good idea, she pressed her speed dial button and waited for him to pick up.

Fifteen minutes later she saw a familiar Mercedes approaching and before she managed to take two steps towards it, Oliver was by her side.

“Where’s your coat?”

“Hmm?”

He gestured to her uncovered arms covered in goosebumps.

“Oh right, I think my friend decided to borrow it, said something about it matching her shoes.”

Oliver shook his head, and began to take off his leather jacket.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to.” She mumbled.

“I insist.” He replied, wrapping it around her.

Few hours later when she woke up to a glass of water and paracetamol by her bedside table, she thought back to the journey back to her apartment. She didn’t remember getting in her bed, just into Oliver’s car. Then the smell of Oliver that made her feel safe and then her eyelids began feeling so heavy that she tucked in her head into the space between her shoulder and the seat belt.

_Oh no._

She had a vague recollection that before she fell into a dreamless slumber, she marvelled at the fact that she was wrapped up in his jacket, and had quite a lot of fun discovering how nice it smelled

She hoped he didn’t notice her basically whiffing in the smell of his leather.

She prayed he didn’t.

She’d never hear the end of it.

 

҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂

 

“Oliver?” she asked with a hint of surprise.

He was leaning against the wall outside her apartment, his face covered by a dark shadow.

“Did something happen? Are you ok?” Her voice rose a notch each time he didn’t answer.

“M’fine just need to you use your shower.” he mumbled.

“Huh?” She heard him say all kinds of odd things, beginning with their first meeting with the ‘spilled latte and a bad neighbourhood’ excuse but turning up by her front door and talking about showers, well that was new.

“Got sprayed with some kind of a chemical agent.”

“What?!” She shouted pulling him inside, then shifted her hands to his jacket. That needed to come off.

“It was either coming to you or jumping to a freezing river.”

“Well I’m glad my shower is more appealing than river water.” she rushed as her fingers travelled to the jacket sleeves to pull it off. “A perk of having central heating.” she bubbled. “How long ago did this happen?” He needed to get it all off. “Not that long?” he said. She sent him a worried look.

“It was further away,” he revealed.

“What was?”

“That river, so I chose your shower.”

“Bathroom. _Now._ ” Felicity exclaimed.

“Mmmhm.” he said, but otherwise made no indication that he was planning on moving, his body now propped against a chest of draws.

Alarmed, she realised that Oliver looked like he was about to pass out.

She looped her arm around him, and moved them forward, most of his weight resting on her side. Why did he have to be so heavy?

He closed his eyes. After a pause, suddenly some kind of a thought made him straighten his back and his eyes darkened.  “ _Felicity_. You shouldn’t _be_ touching me.”

“Too late,” she muttered pushing them into the bathroom, then to the shower cabin.

“The water might be a bit cold at first, but I’m sure that’s the least of your worries.”

Next thing they knew, water was coming from the overhead shower, the cold making them both draw in their breaths at the sensation.

“Okay mister, I need to get those clothes off you.” Even despite the circumstances, she could feel her cheeks reddening. Her hands fumbled to peel off his grey polo shirt.

“Oliver? Can you get your trousers off?”

_

Water poured down his sculpted jaw as he helped her unzip the grey dress with patches of leather she had on. The sharp sound of the zip being drawn down soon was replaced by Felicity’s gasp when the material fell to the shower floor, leaving her only in her underwear.

“Eyes up here.” she said turning around.

“Likewise.”

“I’m looking at your face.”

“Ugh ugh. But you weren’t  two minutes ago. ”  Okay, her eyes might have trailed down his body, but only because she was checking for injuries.

“Felicity!” She realised she was holding his arm. She was worried he would be trying to perform the art of plunking if she let go.

“Yes?”

“Soap.” he said, placing a pink bar in her hands that smelled of strawberries. They didn’t know how much of the substance that was on Oliver’s clothing could have travelled to hers. Either way, her new dress was going to the trash. _Again._

She moved her hand to reach her shoulder and her elbow nudged his naked chest.

“Um, sorry.”

He gave her a tight smile. It was _very_ crowded. Her shower wasn’t accustomed to two people, especially one of them being as big as Oliver.

“Oliver, did you clean your back?” She asked after a while after he massaged the shampoo onto his scalp, _only_ stumbling twice.

“Not yet.”

“Turn around.”

“I can do it.”

“Yeah and in the process die because you’re taking so long.”

_

“So how did this happen, you know since came here dressed as Oliver Queen.” she said gesturing to the leather jacket that was peeking out of the black bin bag. “and not the Arrow.”

“They must have figured it out. You know how I suck at lying.” She thought back to when he told her that he loved her. She believed him for a second before she realised it was a ruse. “Not always.”

Their eyes met and neither looked away.

 

҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂

 

She just came into the lair, shaking off the snow from her leather jacket and hair and tugged several heavy bags down the stairs. Oliver immediately run up to her to take some of the load, when they were stopped in their tracks by a loud “Hm..hm..hm”.

They both turned to see the youngest member of their team in his usual red hoodie attire with a huge smirk glued to his face.

“Yes, Roy?” Oliver asked.

Roy just hoisted his finger up to the ceiling above them. Felicity scrunched her eyebrows wondering if he somehow managed to shoot one of the lights again. Having Roy use the bow hardly qualified as safe, with one arrow having almost gone right through her monitor just as she hopped away to retrieve something, making her question the sanity of whomever it was that proposed that Roy should expand his training to archery.

A panicked “what?” flew out of the suspender wearing Oliver, having realised what had Roy looking so smug.

She cast her eyes up _and_.. It was a _mistletoe._ She swallowed. _How did he even get it up there?_

“Guys, come on.” he urged.

“I don’t even celebrate Christmas. I’m Jewish!” she said in the hope of getting out of the soon-to-be-a-very-awkward-situation.

Oliver just arched his brow.

“No. I am _not_ going to kiss you.” she said. Her cheeks began going awfully warm.

“Tick tock, tradition should not be broken, bad luck all that jazz.” _Since when did the Harper boy get so fatalistic?_

Oliver sent him a glare.

“I’m not that _bad_ of a kisser.” he said, his voice a whisper. She gawked her eyes in surprise. She didn’t doubt it. Hold on, _why did he go saying things like that?_

He then turned around to face Roy. “Not happening Roy, didn’t you have something to do?” The boy remained unfazed by the dismissal. She was still thinking about what he just said. _Did he want to kiss her?_

“Nope. Just do it. One kiss _quick_ kiss and you can both go.” After a pause, seeing that the stubborn expressions on their faces refused to yield, he decided to go for a different approach.       

“I may get awfully uncoordinated, you know by all the bad luck from the broken custom, and could, let’s say... spill the contents of that perfume bottle that you got for your mum on Felicity’s tablet-“ he said facing Oliver.

Felicity’s eyes darkened. “You wouldn’t dare,”

“- or onto your Arrow suit.” Roy laughed. “Imagine trying to intimidate bad guys while smelling like a rose bush.”

She hid a smile whilst Oliver’s eyes sent daggers at the boy whilst grunting something about making him go back to slapping water.

Knowing, there was just one way to end this, she called Oliver’s name. _Just one meaningless kiss. You’ve done it before. Not this time, some part of her countered._ Her heart began to race as he turned back to her with a frown, and before he could say anything she took hold of his suspenders, and propped herself upwards. His eyes widened in surprise and she hurriedly closed the remaining space between them, before the smidgen of bravery she was feeling completely dissipated.

His lips were frozen but so warm and she slowly took hold of them with her own. He soon parted his and everything went from slow and uncertain to intense, where they couldn’t get enough of each other.  Her stomach felt as if it became a home to a swarm of butterflies when he moaned against her lips. His hands travelled to her waist, pulling her closer to his chest, the leather of her jacket pressed against his cotton white shirt.  It was divine.

When they pulled away, gasping for air, it felt like a part of her went missing.

“Woah. That was one hell of a kiss.”

Diggle decided then to walk in. Glancing around, he asked if he missed something noting the awkward silence.

Diggle gave Oliver a hard pointed look. “Man, is that Felicity’s _lipstick_ on your face?”

Roy snickered.

 

҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂

 

The next time she wore her jacket, her heart nearly stopped.

She unlocked her apartment door, longingly looked at the couch on which she wished she could stay on for the rest of the night eating chocolate mint ice-cream, but which she couldn’t because there was a report to be written. The one Oliver should have done three weeks ago for a meeting that was tomorrow.

Trust him, to leave it to the last moment and then come seeking her help. He was worse than her ten year old nephew who when sleeping over at her house last year, had remembered at 11pm that there was a volcano project that was due in the following morning. That he had to get done or the teacher would skin him alive. She rolled her eyes at the exaggeration, but being the ever good ‘aunt’, she took pity and somehow managed to gather all the supplies (it involved driving around town and eventually finding a 24hr convenience store that sold PVA glue), and spending the rest of the night doing a science project _, alone,_ as her nephew fell asleep as soon at the clock hand struck twelve. He was happy to tell her the next visit that he got an A. That _she_ got an A.

So as she switched her gaze from the comfy couch towards the light switch, something brushed across her cheek.

She screamed.

Oliver was just coming back for his patrolling round when on impulse he decided to check how his favourite IT girl was doing. He shuffled through the stairs on the fire escape, as he couldn’t very well go in through the main doors wearing his Arrow suit when he heard a sound that had his blood run cold.

“Get off, get off!”

His land flew to his quiver, drawing out an arrow. Ready to use it, he entered inside her apartment. The place was only lit by the lights coming in from the outside street lamps, making navigating difficult.

“Felicity?”

“Oh my go-AHHH!”

His legs sped in the direction of her voice. He found her by near to her front door, _alone._

“Where is he?” he said his voice low.

“Run somewhere up there?” She said pointing at the wall. Either they were dealing with a Spiderman in an invisibility cloak, or he heard her wrong.

“What?

She was white as a sheet of paper. Whoever, it was, they must hid in the bathroom, right by the wall to which Felicity pointed.

As he moved in that direction, he heard a muffled “Oliver!”.

He turned his head towards her.  “There” she handed him a _tissue._ When he raised his eyebrow, she shot out “You can’t do it with your bare hands. I’d never let you touch me. Not that you should touch me- I’m going to stop talking _right_ now.” She said and as promised, all chatter died down.

He sent her a questioning glance and before he could stop her, she was right in front of him and once again pointing at the wall.

“What ar-”

 _“Shhshhhh”_ He frowned. “Oh my god, it’s right there!” She hissed, her back pressing right to his chest as she scrambled backwards, forgetting he was behind her.

His hands reached out, circling her waist.

When he followed to where she was pointing, he couldn’t stop the loud chuckle that filled the room.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I thought somebody broke in.” Oliver’s warm breath tickled her earlobe as he spoke.

He moved with her towards the infamous wall and she almost ducked to get away from his arms, to the other side of the apartment.

“Relax”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you truly comprehended how creepy they are.”

“We handle creepy on daily basis.”

“Not this creepy.”

“Gotcha.” A boyish grin spread across his face.

Despite a giant spider being held in a tissue inches away from her body she couldn’t help but smile at how proud he looked.

Oliver Queen the man who conquered the beast, slowly moved from behind her so now they were face to face.

“So, what would you like me to do with this fellow?” He held the tissue right in her face.

“GET IT OUT OF HERE!”

“Look how cute it is.” He said, laughing.

“NOW, or you’ll be doing that report by _yourself!_ ” .

 

҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂҂

 

The sky was pouring buckets of water, and lightning flashed across the sky.

“I don’t think eating ice-cream, with Oliver Queen by my side while the next flood happened, was on my agenda this morning.”

“I don’t think I saw this day going this way either.”

They glanced at each other, and wordlessly decided to throw the uneaten cones to a bin nearby. Oliver’s calloused fingers then grabbed her hand. “On three.” Three beats later they were springing, hand by hand, past an occasional umbrella-holder that would obstruct their path.

Water dripped into their eyes but neither cared. Wide grins were plastered across their faces.

By the time they made it to Felicity’s, the rain had soaked through their clothes, the garments attached to their bodies like a second skin.

Before Felicity could insert the key into the building’s door, a warm hand was tilting her chin up, and Oliver’s lips were on hers.

She could taste rain, and the butterscotch from the ice-cream.

She could taste _him._

They somehow managed to make it into the lobby, stumbling and laughing, then the lift and eventually her apartment, their mouths never separating for too long.

The next morning, when Oliver opened his eyes to the warm mass sprayed across his chest, he couldn’t help but tighten his grip across her naked waist and brush the blond locks that lingered on her face.

With the corner of his eye, he saw two leather jackets lying abandoned, sleeves inside out, in the middle of the wooden floor.


End file.
